


Catch Me If You Can

by quillquiver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Slight Violence, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/quillquiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is not used to competing for attention from the police... But then again, neither is Cas. (serial killer!AU) Based off a <a href="http://kissofblack-raven.tumblr.com/post/74303825509/sammyboner-rhirules97-whenever-i-see-this">tumblr post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me If You Can

This first time Dean had heard of him, he’d been impressed. Triple homicide right under the sheriff’s nose? Very obviously leaving just too little evidence for a conviction?

The guy was good.

And yeah, Dean had been impressed… and maybe even a little turned on when the new kid on the block smiled all sugary sweet for the cameras, playing innocent with his brows knitting and baby blues watering appropriately, big trenchcoat hanging off his frame. He looked like a normal guy. Maybe a tax accountant. But Dean knew the look in the kid’s eyes; that hungry, dead, and slightly crazed glint he knew to watch for.

His name was Castiel Novak.

Castiel couldn’t be kept in custody despite the fact that everyone knew he’d committed the murders, and it wasn’t long before he made a reputation for himself; death and destruction following wherever he cropped up. It was impressive, the way he’d disappear for weeks or months at a time, only to show up for a split second—just long enough to be recognized—take a life or two and vanish into thin air. Even Dean, who’d been at this for a damn long time (and for all his experience was one thousand times better), had to admit Castiel’s disappearing acts were good. Again, Dean respected the kid… This wasn’t an easy business to break into.

But then _it_ happened.

 _It_ : New York City. Castiel broke into the mayor’s house, put a bullet through the man’s left eyeball, and carved a smiley face into the heel of his right foot. The kid hanged the body from the ceiling fan, smiling at the security camera as he walked out of the building.

And then Dean was _pissed_. Because hanging people? The smiley face? Those were _his things_. Who did this new guy think he was?!? _Castiel_. What kind of fucking name was Castiel, anyway? They called him the Angel of Death. Ha. How fucking unoriginal. _Tacky_. And the way Castiel broke the shoulder blades of his victims and tied ‘em up to resemble wings? Tasteless. It was overkill.

Dean, at least, had class. It wasn’t like he lacked for creativity, but his kills were always clean, and there was always a cute little smile for the forensics team. Hell, sometimes, when he was feeling particularly creative, he’d carve other things… When he’d been just starting out, he’d managed to recreate the Mona Lisa using only internal organs. Well, and the eyeballs. He’d searched high and low for someone with just the right colour irises.

Anyway, Dean _hated_ guns. Since he’d found his mother with a .45 in her hands, lying in a pool of her own blood, Dean had always hated them. Everybody knew that. Everybody. Just like everybody knew that his mom’s left eye had taken the bullet.

Dean was _infamous_. This was his turf- No, his _world_ … and this new guy, he wasn’t gonna fuck any of that up. Castiel wanted to play? He wanted to flirt? Dean would not disappoint. He’d flirt the guy into a noose.

Smiling, the young man looked through the crime scene photos one last time, biting his lip. He hadn’t had a playmate in a good long while… Not since that copycat in St. Louis.

This was gonna be fun.

The next couple of months were huge: Dean spent most of his time in the papers, purposefully getting caught on camera. He smiled and winked and carved with grand flourishes, using prettily coloured rope and watching his targets swing and cough and choke with newfound excitement. Not that his job wasn’t always thrilling, but to know there was gonna be someone watching? To know that eventually, he was gonna watch that someone dance from the rafters, blue eyes boggling and bloodshot and pretty?

It was exhilarating. And maybe a little hot.

Hey, the Angel was attractive.

Castiel responded in kind to Dean’s advances, his favourite message for the light-haired man being when he’d found two victims that had a striking resemblance to both himself and Dean. Cas had broken into a church and had strung them up like fallen angels, praying at the altar. He hoped Dean had been impressed.

Dean had been.

He also hoped Dean was ready to be strung up himself; Castiel was not in the habit of competing with other people for attention.

***

“Well well well, if it ain’t the Angel of Death himself. Gotta say… I thought you’d be taller.”

Castiel smirked, finishing off the last touches on his kill before turning around, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. He grinned. “Dean Winchester. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Cas removed his gloves, the plastic making a loud cracking noise in the large, spacious office. His kill had been a CEO of some sort. Castiel didn’t remember the details; only that he had been pretty, he had been important, and now he would ascend to Heaven, winged and pure.

“Heard you were a fan,” Dean smiled, fingers itching at his sides. “Just thought I’d give you a private lesson.”

Cas raised a brow, tossing the gloves onto the floor. “Oh, I’d hardly call myself a fan… More of an astute observer of your work. I can appreciate it, I suppose, but God only knows where your fanbase comes from: you’re sloppy.”

Dean snorted. Because really? This guy was too much. Wasting him was gonna be a _blast_. “Never heard that one before,” the light-haired man said good-naturedly. “I mean usually, I get praise for how clean I am. Simple, you know? None of this flowery religious crap. Angel of Death? C’mon dude, that’s one helluva cliché. But hey, your opinion… Maybe we should test it.”

Dean lunged.

But Castiel had been ready.

They pushed and pulled at each other, kicking and punching and clawing at clothing and skin. For every hit Dean landed, Cas landed one in return, though the former was stronger and better equipped for this kind of fight. Castiel was fast, however, and he knew Dean would grow tired more quickly. He danced around the office, watching as his foe knocked over various pieces of furniture, though both men were careful to stay away from the angelic CEO.

If there was one thing they could agree on, it was that art should never be destroyed.

“Come on, you pansy ass piece of shit. What the fuck are you waiting for?”

“This.”

And in one smooth, quick movement, Dean was pressed up against the wall, Castiel’s hands at his throat. “And so the student surpasses the teacher,” the Angel said solemnly, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin. He squeezed.

Dean wheezed a smile, choking under Cas’ graceful fingers: “Not yet.”

In a split second the tables were turned: Dean was flush against Castiel, their legs slotted together and noses a fraction away from touching as the light-haired man grinned charmingly. He held another small blade to the Angel’s neck, Cas grunting a smile as it bit into his flesh.

“You know,” Dean said conversationally. “You make yourself out to be way smarter on the news… But hey, at least you’re just as pretty.”

Castiel chuckled, wriggling against both the wall and Dean. He didn’t miss the way his foe bit his lip at the friction. Sighing, Castiel leaned forward, forehead-to-forehead with Dean as he looked into green eyes, unblinking. “You’re a lot smarter than you look.” The ‘k’ was overly articulated, a drop of spit landing on the other’s bottom lip.

Dean smirked, tongue catching the moisture easily. “Babe, didn’t you hear? I’m the _entire package_.” He punctuated his sentence with a light thrust of his hips, smirk widening as Castiel’s pupils blew wide. “You like that, Angel?”

Cas smiled, huffing a laugh as he thrust his own hips in return. “C’mon, big boy,” he breathed, slow and tauntingly. “You gonna have you way with me or what?”

For what it was worth, Dean had really gone in with the intent to kill the son of a bitch.

Growling, the young man crushed his mouth to that of his blue-eyed counterpart, fingers tangling in dark locks as he ground Castiel into the wall. The Angel mewled in response, his hand moving back to fist the material of Dean’s shirt. Their lips were bruised and knuckles white as they pulled at each other in an entirely different manner than before, hissing and groaning through delicious friction.

Dean had, by now, dropped the knife, his right hand moving down to lightly caress Cas’ thigh. Castiel smirked, hiking his leg up without being asked twice, brows furrowing as Dean ground their hips together. Cas moaned.

It was the prettiest sound Dean had ever heard.

Repeating the action, the young man licked his way into the other’s mouth, grunting when Castiel began to move with him, the blue-eyed man’s hands slipping underneath his shirt. The Angel pushed the material up and up and up, graceful fingers brushing Dean’s lovely dark nipples. Dean faltered, hand dropping from Cas’ thigh as he thrust against Castiel more sharply then before, sparks of heat and pleasure shooting up his spinal column. It hurt. Fuck, he was so hard it _hurt_.

It hurt _so good_.

Cas briefly considered taking control, but the thought was lost as Dean moved down to his neck, suckling at his pulse point hard enough to leave a bruise. He moved down then, biting at Castiel’s collarbone for good measure before pulling back, eyes bright and face flushed. Cas doubted he had ever seen anything so gorgeous.

“Wanna get out of here?” Dean asked breathlessly, licking his swollen lips.

Castiel smiled, the expression more soft as he leaned forward, pressing a light and almost loving kiss to his partner’s mouth. “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
